


Magnus

by Kissa



Category: Magnus Martinsson - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Wallander (UK TV)
Genre: Cats, Gen, Magnus Martinsson - Freeform, Psychosis, Stress, Svedberg, Work, burn-out, tom hiddleston - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 04:38:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissa/pseuds/Kissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short reflection piece on Magnus Martinsson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magnus

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this is the preface to a series. Magnus will never return to the screen, but that doesn't mean he should be forgotten.

He comes home late during the evening, usually when the sun is long gone from the skies or painting a small corner of the dark expanse red.   
  
There is so much to do at work, and psychopaths are giving them even more. Week by week, the heap of files on Kurt’s desk grows taller; desperate mothers come asking about their missing  daughters and worried fathers fret over their delinquent sons.  Everyone prays that the news doesn’t get delivered in a zipped up plastic bag.    
  
Kurt is not taking proper care of himself; his diabetes is wreaking havoc on his whole body. He looks tired and overwhelmed. What’s Magnus supposed to say? He came to Ystad with the hope that a small town would have a small-town-sized crime rate. Yet they’ve just buried Svedberg, who was secretly worshipping Kurt and being in a relationship with a person Magnus could only refer to using a slur. This is not where he was imagining he would end up. 

Magnus can’t deal with all of that like Ann-Britt. He doesn’t have the family support system she has. He’s invited over often enough, but he can’t just borrow himself a family and make himself too cozy. Ann-Britt’s husband might disapprove and Magnus doesn’t want to test that theory.  

He’s doing his best. He’s hardened himself as much as he could, so that he would not puke his soul out over every dead baby in a shoebox or every old farmer hung by his testicles. He has to be there and do his job, helping Kurt find whoever did it and putting them in jail.   
  
The feeling of utter injustice still makes him sick to the core, no matter how much he trains himself not to care about the gore.    
  
He only has the nights to himself during the week. His house is in the center of town, in an imaginary safe circle, away from maniacs with chainsaws and farming tools and close to the shops that stay open until late.    
  
His police salary doesn’t allow him any luxury, but in fairness, he does live in Sweden, which means most of his needs are well taken care of. He loves to cook, a blissfully uneventful hobby which keeps him fed, his friends entertained and his mind away from work and its daily horrors. 

He feeds the cats in his neighbourhood, for the secret pleasure of feeling a living being **not** cringe at his touch. Their fur comes in different textures and lengths and it feels comforting beneath his fingertips.    
  
Magnus still has friends, surprisingly, and not all of them are policemen. He also has several on and off girlfriends, but only because women can’t usually make a consistent decision whether to punch him or fuck him. Usually it’s one, then the other, rinse and repeat.   
  
Usually he catches himself, hip-deep inside someone absolutely charming, his mind miles away.

It’s not despair, it’s the serene resignation of the animal who realizes it’s cornered and that the only way out is feet first.  

 _Make the most of here and now_ , he keeps hearing.  

So he allows himself to drift and sometimes be someone else. Someone who can spend hours deciding between two checkered pattern shirts. Someone who goes dancing every Saturday even though he knows he cannot dance that well, not that drunk anyway.  

Every now and then, a friend brings some weed or some shrooms and he gets high. Not high enough, since he’s never done anything reckless so far... although there is always time for things to go wrong.   
  
Fact is, he dreads going to his workplace every day just as much as Kurt does.  And that he is still so trigger-ready and has no problem with it worries him greatly.

The rare moments of joy and laughter spent with friends are far apart, but he bridges them with hope. Otherwise, he is sure, he would join the ranks of the sick ones who kill.

TBC (I hope)


End file.
